Someone to watch over her
by Mad Kat
Summary: Back in the 1950's Angel gets shown some possible destinies


Someone To Watch Over Her  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: For those of you who just arrived on this planet.not mine!  
  
Summary: Back in the 1950's just after he has been hanged in the Hyperion, Angel gets shown some possible destinies.  
  
Author's note: B/A Forever! (  
  
Angel let his body hang limp and lifeless as it would if he was human, but he wasn't human. He was one pissed off vampire. So much for trying to help the human inhabitants of the Hyperion Hotel, they had condemned themselves to their own lingering deaths when they had decided to string him up - they didn't know he wasn't human, they had meant to kill him.  
  
For a brief and horrifying moment he felt a stirring of rage so strong that he was tempted to relinquish his hold on the demon buried not too deep within and tear through the hotel himself, killing them all.  
  
Dismissing the impulse he waited for the voices and laughter to fade away before he effortlessly hauled himself up the rope and slid free of the noose. He dropped lightly to the ground below and strode out of the foyer without a backward glance.  
  
A split second later he almost tripped over a short, appallingly dressed man who stood outside smoking an enormous and vile smelling cigar.  
  
Angel growled angrily and stormed around the guy when he calmly failed to move himself. Angel strode down the street, uncaring of the people who scattered to let the big, angry looking guy through. Although his long legs ate up the distance he was suddenly aware that the short guy with the long cigar was hurrying along beside him, somehow managing to keep up.  
  
Abruptly he came to a halt, grabbed the little guy by his oversized, ugly collar and roared, "Who are you and why the hell are you following me?"  
  
The little guy didn't look too concerned by the situation he was in, he calmly wriggled his collar a little under Angel's squeezing fingers and said in pure Bronx, "Y'know I really thought you'd stick it out a bit more, first hurdle and you go storming off, leaving all those people to that demon, believe me, their deaths are not going to be pleasant. By the way the name's Whistler."  
  
Angel stared disbelievingly as the guy manoeuvred his cigar back to his mouth and puffed happily; apparently unaware that Angel was about ready to make him eat the cigar along with his fist. Whistler caught the furious glare and decided that it was not the time to be anything less than direct with the former scourge of Europe who was apparently still more than capable of scaring people - or worse. He himself wasn't actually a person and it wouldn't kill him, but having his neck crunched by an irritable vampire still didn't rate high on his to do list.  
  
He waved his hands placating, "Okay Vamp-boy, I'm here to show you something."  
  
A snarl interrupted him, "Not Interested!"  
  
"Whoa, we aren't even there yet, you have no idea of what I wanna show you."  
  
Angel's eyes glowed slightly golden; he spoke dangerously soft, sounding out each syllable as if talking to someone extremely stupid, "I'm - not - in-ter-es-ted."  
  
Whistler narrowed his eyes; bloody stubborn young fool, he thought. "Interested or not you have zero choice buddy, this won't take very long if you co-operate and then you can go your own merry er, miserable way if you still want to."  
  
Angel growled in frustration, shoved Whistler away and turned to storm off down the street, which suddenly wasn't a street anymore.  
  
He was standing in a hospital corridor, he realized and to his dismay a man and young child simply walked straight through him, apparently not seeing him.  
  
"We're not real here pal, we see them, they don't see us is the way it goes."  
  
Angel gritted his teeth, that were rapidly becoming fangs in his rage, "Where is here and Why are we here?" he growled out.  
  
Whistler grinned cockily, "This is a Los Angeles hospital, the date is January nineteenth," he paused for effect as Angel turned away taking in more of his surroundings, "nineteen-eighty-one."  
  
It had the desired effect because Angel promptly spun back in a blur and was beside him at once demanding, "Why?"  
  
Whistler feigned deafness and wandered away to peer through a doorway "Isn't she cute?" he murmured looking at whatever was behind the door.  
  
Angel stomped over and peered in too, "A young couple with a new baby, And?"  
  
"That sonny," Whistler smirked, "is a little girl, the course of whose entire life is going to be decided by your actions, what you do when we get back, or in the future is going to shape her whole existence."  
  
Angel snorted disbelievingly.  
  
"Yeah, you don't believe me, alright I get that." Grumbled Whistler. "But we haven't really got started yet." Angel blinked in disbelief, suddenly they were back in the deserted Foyer of the Hyperion; the rope he had dangled from still hung there swaying slightly in a breeze.  
  
Whistler was still talking Angel realized and since he didn't seem to have any choice in the matter he stopped arguing and glaring and listened instead.  
  
"You see, there are basically three ways you can go from here and each path you could take will have a different impact on that little girl's life, you follow me?"  
  
Angel nodded impatiently.  
  
"Okay so here we go, we'll look at you first before we get to her. Lets do a bit of destinies numbers one and two first."  
  
Angel watched in disbelief as his self of only that morning detached himself from the rope and stormed angrily out of the building.  
  
"Destiny number one leaving never to return." Commented Whistler, "lets take a look, see where he's gonna be in oh, say nineteen-ninety-six."  
  
Angel wrinkled his nose slightly; he was in a filthy alleyway full of trash. He looked at Whistler "So where am I then?"  
  
Whistler grimaced and nodded towards a bundle of old rags. Suddenly the bundle of old rags leaped forwards and grabbed a passing rat. With an animalistic growl the ragged figure tore into the rat, worrying at it with sharp fangs, Angel stared in horrified recognition at the grimy creature feeding on the rodent.  
  
"Bad choices," muttered Whistler almost sympathetically, "I'd say lets go see life number two but actually it goes the exact same way until a few days from this point in time. It's destiny number three that takes a totally different route."  
  
The Alleyway faded away and Angel glared at Whistler as he arrived in a dark, well-furnished apartment; with his legs stuck through a desk. Even if he couldn't really feel it, it didn't mean it didn't piss him off.  
  
After removing himself from the desk Angel followed Whistler through a doorway to see a much more welcome sight. A well-fed, decently dressed version of himself was sprawled on a bed reading. Antique weaponry, fine art and books adorned most of the available space. This was a much better future he decided.  
  
Whistler was talking again, "You see, this version of you is totally different and that is because he made some totally different choices. He helps people and tries to make a difference, when he isn't sulking that is."  
  
Suddenly the scenery changed again and Angel found himself back in the Hyperion. "Stop doing that!" he grumbled half-heartedly.  
  
He was ignored, "Watch and learn." Whistler muttered his eyes fixed on the doorway.  
  
Suddenly he was watching himself stride through the doorway, prepared to fight the demon for the hotel's people he realized numbly.  
  
"The first step is always the hardest," Whistler told him softly as the Hyperion faded away yet again as the other Angel squared up to the demon. "Then it gets easier to keep helping, the guy we just saw; he just kept on going, kept on helping, it's a hellish tough job, particularly alone but he does it and frankly, he looks better off doesn't he?"  
  
Angel was silent, well aware that he had made the choice to walk away without helping, and wasn't at all certain he would change his mind despite the total lack of appeal that rat for dinner held. Helping people wasn't part of his nature, because why should he care about people, when they didn't care about him?  
  
Whistler was in his element now, "Right then, lets drop in on the little girl, see what she's up to in good old nineteen-ninety-six. Angel grunted unenthusiastically just before finding himself in a bright sunny street, he'd dived for cover under a nearby truck before he recalled his unreality and heard Whistler roar with laughter.  
  
He lay under the truck for a long moment wondering if time jumping little weirdoes were killable, before crawling out again. Whistler grinned down at him as he slowly got to his feet.  
  
"Habit, okay?" Angel snapped, before his eyes swivelled past Whistler and locked on to a tiny, laughing blonde girl surrounded by several admiring boys and a big crowd of friends. He stared longingly as she smiled coyly up at a tall, adoring blonde guy and licked a red lollipop before saying something he didn't catch but made everyone around her laugh and smile.  
  
"Hey, earth to Angel, hello!"  
  
Angel blinked in surprise as Whistler's hand waved past his nose a couple of times, he tore his gaze away as the girl waved goodbye to her friends before skipping down some steps to hug a younger girl and an older woman, presumably her mother and sister judging by the resemblance. Whistler's hand waved again and he realized his eyes had drifted back to the beautiful girl.  
  
"Isn't she cute?" Whistler asked for the second time that day.  
  
Angel started in surprise as he abruptly came to a few conclusions, "Is she.?"  
  
"That's the one, and you are the one who can define her life, if she'll marry, if she'll have kids, what career she'll have, who her lovers will be, even down to how long she's gonna live."  
  
"But how can I make such a difference?" Angel was suddenly interested.  
  
Whistler hid a smile, "Just as you have three possible destinies, so does she. Depending on which way you choose to go will define in turn how her life will go. I think we'll start with what happens to her if you choose destiny number one, where you sit on your backside in an alleyway eating vermin for the rest of eternity." The sunny street filled with smiling students faded away to be replaced with a gloomy graveyard. Angel looked around nervously; almost certain he wasn't going to like what was coming.  
  
Whistler seemed oblivious, "Now lets see, Marriage and kids, nope. Not in this life. Career, nope. Lovers, again nope. Lets see, what does she get."  
  
A scream rang out from nearby.  
  
Whistler snapped his fingers together, "Oh, yeah. She gets an early death."  
  
Angel found himself watching as a huge vampire advanced on the little blonde, she looked terrified and he wanted to close his eyes to block out the fate she had before her, suddenly in the blink of an eye she launched an attack, sending the gigantic vampire staggering backwards, a stake clutched determinedly in her tiny fist and she fought bravely giving him a flutter of hope before being pinned roughly against a wall.  
  
Then the dark cemetery was gone and a fresh grave strewn with flowers with a little white headstone was before them in the light.  
  
"Buffy Anne Summers," Whistler read. "Poor kid, they have it tough those slayers, barely sixteen, no life at all." He turned away shaking his head.  
  
Angel stared in disbelief; she had been the slayer? The tiny, laughing girl had been the one to have to embrace that horrific destiny? His stomach churned, perhaps he had better be on a rat based diet forever - surely it would be better to die sooner rather than later if you were a slayer?  
  
As if he had somehow read his thoughts Whistler spoke, "She was a gutsy one y'know, always determined to have a normal life, or as normal as she could make it. Went out of her way to bend the rules and have friends, desperately wanted to live, at least long enough to graduate high school and fall in love anyway. But she didn't get to have that chance. Sad eh?"  
  
Angel gave a brief jerk of his head, signifying a seemingly cold sort of assent. In truth he felt as if half a brick had somehow gotten lodged in his throat and he wasn't prepared to trust his voice.  
  
"So destiny number two," Whistler swept on, "goes the same as number one until nineteen-ninety-six when you finally get off your backside and do something good for the world - kinda like destiny number three, if you follow."  
  
Angel braced himself for yet another disturbing vampire/slayer encounter, but they stayed where they were. Whistler was frowning "There's so much," he muttered to himself. He brightened "I know, I'll just show you a few quick glimpses, so watch closely."  
  
Angel found himself assaulted by images, a young Buffy at first, fighting and winning, himself by her side, her with other kids laughing and joking together, a caring watcher, her loving mother and sister. Then for a moment things slowed down and he watched himself kissing Buffy in full demonic visage, he cringed inwardly but the vision swept on relentlessly with more demons to destroy, before again pausing on an intimate kiss, which rapidly became still more intimate, if he was capable he would've blushed as he watched himself and Buffy make love, as it was he squirmed, because Whistler was watching.  
  
Then the reasonably nice looking future began to spin violently out of control. He saw himself murdering people and attacking Buffy, he saw her plunge a sword into his body, demons and death began to dominate the vision, each more terrible than the last. He himself disappeared from her arms, to be replaced by another man and then another. He watched her cradle her dead mother in her arms and saw her bleak misery. Then finally he watched as she kissed her sister and turned to run towards a blazing portal, he knew she meant to die before he even saw her jump and turned away with a sob as he found himself in front of her grave once more, the date was different but not by much, not by enough.  
  
"Brave kid," Whistler said gently, "and she had some good times before it all went so wrong. You kept her alive you know, gave her something to hold onto. It was all bearable for her until she lost you for good."  
  
"She was only twenty," Angel choked out, "how much needless pain did she suffer just because I prolonged her life for a few more years? I didn't give her enough to compensate for that."  
  
"Stand back!" Whistler announced suddenly, "We're not done yet."  
  
Angel watched in horror as a partially decayed body heaved itself from the grave and lay trembling as its flesh reformed around its bones.  
  
"They couldn't just leave her there," sighed Whistler, "Eighty-seven days she rotted in that grave, to call her back was madness, she'll remember the peace of heaven too well."  
  
Angel stared in horror, first at the trembling figure on the disturbed grave then at Whistler. "No." he denied.  
  
"Where else do heroes go?"  
  
Angel had no answer to that, he just slumped down beside the whimpering slayer and wept with her. He hadn't ever met her, hadn't known of her existence until an hour ago but now he felt bound to her, as if he had already been the adoring lover he had seen another self play.  
  
Whistler took pity on him, "Enough. Suffice to say she did not live happily ever after, but she had the chance to fall in love once and be truly loved in return and to graduate high school, as she wanted. She had a few lovers but never married or had children, she had no career and she never made it through college, her final death came when she was only twenty-two, and the saddest thing was, by then, she welcomed it."  
  
Angel just groaned, everything he could have asked for within their grasp and then for it to slip away leaving Buffy with this future. Twenty-two was not young for a slayer to die, but he would have welcomed the chance to see her loveliness when it wrinkled and greyed, a chance ever denied.  
  
"Now to destiny number three," Whistler declared.  
  
Angel surged to his feet "Lets just skip it okay, I got the message, the more I do the worse things go for her and the better they get for me. So she died at sixteen when I did nothing - that would be for the best, pure misery for years, until death at only twenty-two is just cruel."  
  
Whistler shook his head, "Don't go jumping to conclusions. After all if you got your act together in the fifties instead of the nineties things like this simply wouldn't happen."  
  
Angel shuddered as he watched himself pursue and murder a lovely dark haired young woman as he had in the previous destiny, "that wouldn't happen?" he asked hopefully.  
  
Whistler grinned "Nope. Lots of bad stuff doesn't happen. In fact instead of showing you all the piddling little good and bad times and how they vary or not, I'm going to cut the core of the matter and just show you a very special day."  
  
A magnificent house, or rather mansion gleamed in the sunshine before them. A vast sweeping lawn and well-tended flowerbeds surrounded them. Angel looked around in surprise as he could hear some faint giggling and shushing going on nearby but nobody was in sight.  
  
Then he caught a glimpse of a flash of blue behind a bush and went nearer to investigate, followed by a grinning Whistler. The red-haired girl he now recognised as a dear friend of Buffy's crouched behind the bush, her arms cradling a toddler with the same violently red hair, she was older he realised, quite a bit older, certainly no longer a teenager. More sniggering and movement came from choice areas of the shrubbery. He turned to Whistler frowning in puzzlement, not sure of what he was looking for.  
  
Whistler nodded to a patio area just around the corner, where a large table groaned under the strain of being heaped with brightly wrapped gifts and dishes of food, and a huge iced cake, topped with candles.  
  
Then the garden gate swung open.  
  
"SURPRISE!!"  
  
Chorused a dozen different voices and suddenly the sunny lawn was full of men, women and children swarming round a beautiful blonde woman dressed in a pretty pink dress all of them trying to hug, kiss and congratulate her at once.  
  
It was Buffy.  
  
She beamed at them all and complained good-naturedly that she had been planning to stop having new ages at twenty-nine as she was towed towards the table.  
  
Angel stared dumbly.  
  
Buffy was alive and about to celebrate her thirtieth birthday, an unheard of feat for a slayer. He drifted disbelievingly after the happy crowd, followed by Whistler who was grinning even more widely by now. Angel was grinning too. Buffy was alive and happy and getting older!  
  
"Well, looks like that life isn't a bad one, huh Angel?" Whistler offered smugly.  
  
Angel nodded dumbly, still grinning as he watched her scoop up a dark haired little boy and cuddle him lovingly into her lap as the kid offered her a mangled flower.  
  
"So, to sum up, she lives at least as far as thirty, and graduated both high school and college, she doesn't have a career but being the slayer and a mother of three keeps her pretty busy. She fell in love only once, when she was sixteen, he was and still is her only lover and is now her husband and the father of her children.  
  
Something cold and heavy settled uncomfortably into the pit of Angel's stomach as Whistler said those words, so he wasn't for her in this life. He slowly let go of the small fantasy he had been nurturing; that they could be together in this better world too. Then he shook off his self-pity, Buffy would have this life, he would see to it, and no matter what it would cost him personally he would watch over her and ensure she got the life she deserved.  
  
Then the little boy called, "Daddy!" and launched himself from Buffy's lap, speeding across the lawn towards a tall man carrying a mountain of gifts that nearly obscured him from view. Buffy laughingly went to help and he watched as the boxes were planted on the floor and Buffy was eagerly swept up for a lingering kiss.  
  
.By himself?  
  
He watched in disbelief as the scene unfolded, himself and Buffy kissing, Buffy laughing, him holding Buffy's son - their son. Surrounded by their friends. He stared and stared as the dream unfolded.  
  
Cigar smoke drifted over him, irritating his nose and finally distracting him, "Still want to dismiss that as a possible future?" Whistler asked gently.  
  
Angel took a last look at the happy gathering and shook his head, "That's my destiny," he declared.  
  
Then the laughing, celebrating crowd was gone, Whistler was gone and he was dangling from the rope once more.  
  
He slipped free, dropped lightly to the ground below and strode out of the door without a backward glance, away from the cruel laughter of the people who had thought to kill him.  
  
He needed to get a few things before he could finish off that demon.  
  
The End 


End file.
